stretched up the steep slopes, covering and softening every rough
outline. Even Will, as he rounded the ridge, recovered his equanimity,
and his face lighted up with pleasure at the sight which met his view.
Down below glistened a sea of burnished gold, with tints and shades of
purple grey; above stretched a sky of still more glowing colours; and
landward, rising to the blue of the zenith, the rugged moorland was
covered with a mantle of heath and gorse, which shone in the evening
sun in a rich mingling of gold and purple.

"What a glorious evening!" were Will's first thoughts. The birds sang
around him, the sea lisped its soft whispers on the sea below, the song
of a fisherman out on the bay came up on the breeze, the rabbits
scudded across his path, and the seagulls floated slowly above him.
All the sullenness went out of his face, giving way to a look of
pleased surprise, as out of the carpet of gorgeous colouring spread
before him rose suddenly the vision of a girl. It was Morva who came
towards him, her hair glistening in the sunshine, her blue eyes dancing
with the light of health and happiness. Behind a rising knoll stood
her foster-mother's cottage, almost hidden by the surrounding gorse and
heather, for, according to the old Welsh custom, it had been built in a
hollow scooped out behind a natural elevation, which protected it from
the strong sea wind; in fact, there was little of it visible except its
red chimney-pot, from which generally curled the blue smoke of the
furze and dried ferns burning on the bare earthen floor below.

Turning round the pathway to the front of the house, one came upon its
whitewashed walls, the low worm-eaten door deep set in its crooked
lintels, and its two tiny windows, looking out on the sunny garden,
every inch of which was neatly and carefully cultivated by Morva's own
hands; for she would not allow her "little mother" to tire herself with